


The Experiment

by Copperbell111



Series: Kirkland the Romantic Hero [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, England crying, France crying, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-26 10:39:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13856085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Copperbell111/pseuds/Copperbell111
Summary: Francis Bonnefoy is working for the eccentric Lord Arthur Kirkland (demented maniac) who has a secret laboratory, and a machine beneath his derelict mansion. An experiment goes wrong sending Francis hurtling through time and space where he falls out of the ether and into the path of brooding romantic hero, Arthur Hindley Kirkland, who lives in the mansion in 1827.  He rides horses, he's angsty, he's deep, and loving and although he's been led to believe that loving a man is wrong, he is attracted to Francis.  He plays the guitar, and has a lovely summerhouse .. his wife is dead and he is lonely... and somehow he and Francis fall in love...





	1. The laboratory

The mansion was best described as “gothic” because of its unusual darkness, that seemed to be possessed of another world. It was a cold day, with mist descending and snowing heavily, definitely not the sort of weather anyone would want to walk in, and yet, Francis Bonnefoy, a French doctor, working in England, trudged through it, as he was going to keep an appointment with the owner of the mansion, who was a bit of a local eccentric. His name was Lord Arthur Kirkland, and he lived in this huge place all alone. It was so cold that Francis was wrapped up in a big coat and scarf, and even that wasn’t offering much protection. Eventually however he reached the grounds of the mansion. He opened the large iron gate and walked up the winding path which was lined with twisted and tortured trees that for all the world looked like dark souls trapped in immobile bodies. In the distance he could see a little graveyard on a hill, like little houses for the dead, at least that’s what he thought of it. In reality they were crypts, where deceased members of the Kirkland family were laid to rest. He continued to the front door where he let himself in. At one time there would have been a butler to open the door and take his coat, but that time had long since passed. All the servants had either left or died of disease, leaving the mansion an empty shell of its former glory. Francis thought that it represented the British Empire perfectly, although he never expressed that opinion to the owner. He’d been working as an assistant to Lord Kirkland, for some time now, and they had become close friends, and perhaps a bit more, and this was why he was willing to trudge through miles of snow and ice just to be there working with him. His endeavours were not recognised by the scientific community as well as they should have been, but Lord Kirkland poured his fortunes into his works and ideas, somewhat neglecting his home that used to be very grand. The huge door clanked as it shut and echoed through the gothic arches of the once beautiful mansion, now falling into ruin. It was just as cold inside as it was outside, and dusty as there were no servants to keep the place in good condition. He made his way down the stairs to the foundations and opened a little door to a basement room. In there it was a bit warmer, and music was playing in the background. “Arthur?” He called out “Are you here?”  
“Come through…” He replied from behind another door.  
The laboratory was quite large, and set in a series of gothic arches, in what used to be the wine cellar of the mansion. It was lit by lamps on the wall and had an unusual smell about it that wasn’t unpleasant but a distinctive fragrance, that filled the place, a little like rose incense. Arthur was working on a large machine that he and Francis had painstakingly constructed, over the last few months. It consisted of a large steam engine, cogs, and wheels, and all manner of cranks etc but there was so much more to it. Arthur, who was one of the worlds greatest mathematicians, had constructed a particular algorithm, which he had programmed into an enormous computer that he’d managed to procure from the British Government at the end of World War 2. They were reluctant at first to give it to him but as they soon found out, money talks. In a cordoned off area of the lab, there were what looked like dead bodies all in a row and covered with sheets. Francis entered and as he made his way over to Arthur he saw them lying there.  
“Mon Dieu… Arthur… are those human cadavers?”  
“They are indeed my fine French friend…” Arthur replied enthusiastically as he worked on the machine.  
“Well what do you intend to do with them?” Francis asked, looking quite alarmed.  
“I intend to bring them to life…” He replied. “With the help of … the machine… “ He said “I really need to find a better name for this than ‘The Machine’ don’t I?”  
“You…can’t bring people back to life Arthur…” Francis said “And where did you get those bodies?”  
“I have a friend who works in a graveyard…” He said and stopped. “The machine will bring them back to life…” He said. “How else was I supposed to test it?”  
“Yes… I understand but…” Francis replied  
“Do you know what the other scientists said when I told them I could bring people back to life?” Arthur said as he tinkered with some machinery. “They said ‘Arthur Kirkland, your experiments are the vagary of a demented maniac and cannot be allowed to continue’. Well this will show them won’t it?” He said “You don’t think I’m a demented maniac do you Francis?”  
“No… on the contrary I find you to be a visionary…” Francis replied. “But you must take a break.” He said “How long have you been working on the machine this time?”  
“All night…” Arthur replied. “You’re right… I need a break don’t I?”  
“Oui. Shall I meet you in the lounge in ten minutes?” Francis asked. “Besides I walked here in the freezing cold, I need to warm up.”  
“Alright… I’ll get changed and see you there in a few moments… there’s something I want to talk to you about.” Arthur replied as he wiped some grease off his fingers.  
Francis nodded and went to a little door that was on the other side of the laboratory, it was red and made of wood, with a little black handle.  
He opened it and it was a cosy little lounge with armchairs and an open fire in the hearth. Arthur Kirkland, got there a few minutes later. “I’m so glad you made it.” He said as he offered him a glass of whiskey. Francis would have politely declined but it was rather welcome after his walk through the snow. He took off his outdoor clothes and took a seat in one of the armchairs. This was one room in the mansion that was kept in reasonable condition. The walls were decorated in a red pattered wallpaper, there was a red carpet on the floor and a rug in front of the fire. Arthur stood in front of a large red curtain, wearing a suit and a doctor’s white coat.  
“Thank you.” He said as he took the glass of whiskey.  
Arthur sat in the other armchair with his own glass of whiskey looking a bit thoughtful, a bit distant, and even distracted. He looked to Francis and smiled a little as he watched him warm up by the fire. It was a terribly cold day after all.  
“Francis, we’ve known each other for some time now…” He began. “You’ve helped we work on my inventions and the time we’ve spent together has been great? Don’t you think so? And… as its just you and I here… I know that what I say to you is in confidence… and… and…”  
The Frenchman turned to look at him and seeing a different expression than usual on Lord Kirkland’s face, he realised that he wanted to talk about something more personal than the usual scientific studies or theories. He was glad that their conversation had come round to this as he had been experiencing attraction and feelings for him, and wanted so much to get that out into the open. However, he let Arthur speak first.  
“What I mean to say, is that you excite me in ways that I feel others wouldn’t understand.” Arthur continued “Working with you is stimulating.” He said and looked to the Frenchman sitting opposite. He was just listening to him with a little smile forming on his perfect French features.  
“If you want to know if I feel the same way then oui… the feeling is mutual…” He replied, and when he said that. Arthur smiled, looking at him intensely. He got up from his armchair and knelt in front of the fire beside his friend and took his hand, which was still cold from the temperatures outside.  
“I have felt this way for some time now.” Arthur said meaningfully. “I had hoped you wouldn’t mind, and I even anticipated that you might not want to know…”  
“I am glad you told me…” Francis replied, gazing at him, the firelight from the open fire dancing in his eyes as he grasped his friends hand. Arthur cautiously moved to kiss him, and Francis responded by kissing him back.  
“Is this what you made me walk through miles of endless snow for? You naughty Petit lapin…” Chuckled Francis “Not that I am complaining…”  
“Sorry...” Arthur replied. “But I wanted to tell you how I feel and… thought you might be happy to stay for a while, seeing as we might be snowed in tonight.”  
“I guessed as much.” He replied. “But if you think I am sleeping upstairs in your freezing derelict mansion… think again.”  
“Of course not.” Arthur replied.  
“Mon Cher… what about your machine hm?”  
“It can wait.. “ Arthur replied, which was unusual. Normally he’d be showing Francis everything and asking his opinions and even going a little mad here and there. He appreciated his friend’s help with everything, but the current situation was a little more intense than most things.  
“Indeed it will …” Francis replied as he kissed him softly. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?” He asked.  
“If its anything like how long I’ve wanted to kiss you… then it will be from the first day we met.” He replied.  
Francis recalled how the agency had sent him there, on a temporary basis to work after the end of the war, as a break from his usual career choices. After seeing so much death and carnage in the battlefield he wanted to do something less stressful. They indicated that Lord Kirkland had advertised with them for someone with medical training, so he was sent there. He remembered how he’d arrived at this mansion a few months earlier, and been greeted by Lord Kirkland, in his run down mansion, and the first moment he clapped eyes on the Englishman he was captivated. It might have been his pristine suit and gentle English accent or a combination of things, but all he knew was that he found himself attracted to him, even though he’d been told that such feelings for another man were wrong. Francis knew he was more attracted to men than to women but this was the first time he could actually be free with it, and now to know that Arthur was also attracted to him, meant the world.  
“It is true… I have felt this way from that very day we first met.” Francis replied. “Where do we go from here? We will have to keep our feelings secret…”  
“Let’s not worry about that for now.” Arthur replied. “I’m just so glad this worked out and you do want this.” He said softly. “I feel my heart fluttering… I hope that’s what’s supposed to happen…”  
“Oui… it is what is supposed to happen.” Francis replied. “You will no longer be the lonely Lord Kirkland.. “ He said and kissed him again, as he responded to Arthur’s touch. They embraced and Arthur stroked his hair a little, the Frenchman wore his hair long and silky. It was captivating in the soft light of the open fire. It was the start of something special, but something that would lead to an unusual and frightening occurrence.


	2. The Time Machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur tries to revive the corpse of his old progenitor BUT Francis accidentally gets caught in the machine and is sent back to the past... muhahahaha...

Time passed and winter neve seemed to leave. If anything it only got colder and colder. Francis spent his days helping Arthur in the laboratory, but every experiment they did to try to revive the dead, was fruitless. The remains of cadavers had to be taken away as they really didn’t have anywhere to store them for long and it was very unhygienic to have them there. Arthur paced the floor, deep in thought whilst Francis wrote in his journal the details of all the experiments that didn’t work. The first cadaver melted like plastic, the second practically disintegrated and the third made a strange popping sound before turning into a blob of mulch. Nothing worked, much less bring anyone back to life. Each time they would carefully prepare the bodies, washed and dried and placed in the chamber of the machine, and each time something went completely wrong.   
“I just don’t understand it.” Arthur grumbled as he tinkered with the machine and the computer. “My algorithm was perfect… it should have worked.” He said moodily. “What do I have to do here?”   
“Do not worry Mon Cher…” Francis said as he looked up from his journal. “You are not …’ow you say? Einstien…”   
“No… I’m better than Einstien. He only said E= MC2 as if that was the be all and end all of the universe. MY equation E to the power of F divided by the square root of Pi, multiplied by MC2 and transmutated through the steam powered energy transducer which I might add contains a heart of quartz crystal… means LIFE… except it didn’t work.” He mumbled.   
“What will this accomplish Mon Petit Lapin?” Francis asked “Maybe you should try something else non?”   
“Try something else? Try..? I have worked on this for a very long time and I am not giving up now!” retorted Arthur. “I thought you believed in my experiments.”   
“I do Mon Cher…” Francis replied “But it is clear nonetheless that life cannot be restored to a corpse non?”   
“I beg to differ.” Arthur replied and paused. “I want to show you something… come with me….”   
“Alright…” Francis replied as he followed Arthur out of the basement and into the cold dark derelict rooms of the mansion above them. It was freezing, but they continued up the stairs towards the attic rooms.   
“The reason I want to be able to bring the dead back to life… Francis is because… I am the last of the Kirkland’s. They are all dead… except me.” He said and paused. “And I won’t be having any children any time soon…” He continued. “However, if I could bring them back…. Just imagine the possibilities.”   
Francis was listening to him intently. He certainly had some big ideas, big stupid impossible ideas. Who would want to bring people back to life that had been dead for years? “I think you are forgetting one thing Arthur…” Francis said as they approached the attic. “Would not the bodies of your ancestors be decomposed and rotting by now?”   
“That is why I incorporated an energy transducer into the machine… it will regenerate and more… reanimate dead tissue… trust me on that one.” He said and then stopped for a moment. “Or at least it should… it just hasn’t yet… I must be doing something wrong somewhere.”   
Arthur took him up to the little attic room where he got out an old photo album. He showed Francis the photographs of some of his ancestors.   
“This distinguished gentleman here is my Great Grandfather… he was also called Arthur, actually we all are called Arthur… its more of a title than a name…” He said pointing to a photograph of someone who was very like him in looks and stature. “This Arthur Kirkland had a middle name. His full name was Arthur Hindley Kirkland. As far as I know they all used to call him Hindley. He lived in this mansion during its hey day in the years 1820 to 1880 when he died of natural causes.”   
“Monsieur Hindley looks a lot like you Mon Cher, he even has your eyebrows…” Francis chuckled.   
“Imagine if I could bring him back… talk to him… put him back in charge of this mansion…” Arthur said reiterating his pipe dream.   
Francis sighed but smiled a little. There was no way this could ever work but Arthur seemed to believe it would. He turned over the photo album and showed Francis a picture that nearly made his heart stop.   
“What do you think of this?” Arthur said as he showed him it. There was, in the photo album, an old ripped photograph, faded and sepia toned, but standing next to Arthur Hindley Kirkland was a man who looked not unlike himself, apart from his clothes which were obviously from the 1800s. The date on the photograph was April 8th 1828  
“Mon Dieu!” He gasped “But… I was unaware that any of my ancestors knew yours… “   
“Nobody knows about him.” Arthur said “It’s all very mysterious. No one knew his name or where he came from, it was a mystery. Before my father died I asked him about that man and he told me to shut up.”   
“It is amazing, he looks almost exactly like me…” Francis gasped. “Where did this photograph come from?”   
“I don’t know.” Arthur said. “But look how close he stands to my Great Grandfather… I would have said they were more than friends, wouldn’t you?”   
“You… think they were lovers?” He asked tentatively. “As you and I?”   
“Perhaps.” Arthur replied. “But I really want to find out. Just imagine being able to talk to Arthur Hindley Kirkland, finding out the mystery of this photograph. Who that man was, and why he looks like you?”  
“Oui, it is a mystery indeed.” He said as he stared at the photograph. “This must have been one of the first photographs ever taken… it is so old…”   
“So you see, I have good reasons for wanting to revive the dead… and I have an algorithm… and a machine… just not life itself.” Arthur said “But I will find it, and bring this man back to life, and maybe some of the others too… if it works.”   
“It is certainly a dream worth dreaming Mon Cher.” Francis said with a smile. He knew it would never work, but he liked seeing his love motivated in his work.   
“I have to try, Francis… I know I’m not going to have any children of my own, and being the last of the Kirklands… that would never do.” He said as he kissed him. “I sometimes wish that men could get pregnant… I’d want you to be the other parent to my child… if it was only possible.”   
“You know Arthur… bringing back the dead might be more impossible…” Francis said gently. “If I could have your children I would.” He said with a smile. “I have always thought I would make a good… parent… “   
“I will find a way…” Arthur said “But first let me finish my experiments on reviving the dead… “ He continued. “If they do not work then that will be the next step.”   
Francis sighed at all of Arthurs impossible dreams, but he loved him anyway.   
Absent mindedly, Francis tucked the old photograph of the man who looked like him, in the inside pocket of his waistcoat, and forgot he’d even done that. They left the attic and went down to the basement again to continue with more experiments.   
“I suppose Arthur Hindley Kirkland is buried up at the family cemetery on the hill?” Francis asked as they set up the machine again. “The little houses for the dead…” He chuckled.   
“Actually, he is… what’s left of him.” Arthur replied. “Horribly decomposed… a stinking corpse…” he uttered “…and you’ve just given me an idea…”   
“Oh wait… you aren’t going to dig him up are you?”   
“Of course not.” Arthur said. “His coffin is above ground.. it will be a simple case of going up there and getting it…” He said as he threw on his coat. “Come on, we’ve got work to do…”   
“Oh Lord!” exclaimed Francis as he put on his coat and followed Arthur up to the little cemetery on the hill. “I cannot believe you are actually going to put your long dead ancestor into your machine in the hopes that it will revive him…” he said in disbelief. He had no desire to try to handle the corpse or the coffin which would very likely be heavy. Arthur opened up one of the “little houses for the dead” and they went inside. The coffin was above ground as Arthur had said and covered in a rotting British Union Jack flag. “Well here he is… old Great Grandfather Arthur Hindley Kirkland.”   
“Do we really ‘ave to do zis?” Protested Francis. But it was no good, Arthur was determined to try this, and so after a great struggle to get the coffin down the hill, in the snow, and then down into the basement, they finally pushed it into a corner, and stopped.   
“This is madness Arthur… madness…” Francis still protested, even though it was useless. When Arthur wanted to do something he did it, no matter how gruesome the task may be.   
“Open up the coffin Francis… I’ll fire up the machine!” He said as he put on his lab coat, and a pair of dark sunglasses. When they performed this experiment, there would be a flash of blue light so, he had to protect himself. Francis also got changed into the lab coat and glasses before opening up the coffin. He immediately threw up because the smell was so bad, and he stood there wretching as he looked at the disgusting corpse. “I am not doing zis…” He said “I am a doctor not a Necromancer…”   
“Oh, stop it!” Arthur yelled. “Always trying to ruin it aren’t you?”   
“It’s not me trying to ruin it. Look, he is dead, he is gone, he will never be revived… do you not see zis?”   
“Wheel the corpse on the trolley and into the machine!” Yelled Arthur getting frustrated. “Come on, its almost ready.   
“You wheel it in!” Francis yelled back and coughed. “This is disgusting this corpse…”   
“Just wheel it in… I’m warning you….”   
“Warning me of what?” He yelled “You wanted to do this rrrriiidiculous experiment…” Francis said, in a very animated way, as he was getting quite angry by now. “You have these, crazy, mad, English dreams zat will never come true… you drag me all ze way to a crypt to get a person who has been dead for a century… I will do zis no more.. I have had enough you stupid English…”   
“Stop shouting at me you Foppish French twit!” Yelled Arthur also really angry. “I told you why I want to revive this corpse, the best thing you can do is…”   
“Do not tell me what is the best thing to do. I have had enough of your orders, I will not take my leave!” Francis yelled as he walked off in completely the wrong direction, in fact he walked right into the machine without realising it. “Now I am in the machine!” he yelled “Why am I in the machine? Look what you made me do…”  
Without warning, the machine chamber closed on Francis and the engine started up, there were various clanks and groans and moans as the machine moved into action.   
Arthur stood there open mouthed watching as poor Francis got trapped in the chamber and it closed on him.   
“Francis!” He exclaimed, no longer angry, but concerned. He had to stop the machine but everything he tried wasn’t working.   
The Frenchman beat on the door to the chamber erratically, screaming to be let out. “Arthur, get me out of here! Get me ouuuuut!!!” he yelled “Sacre Bleu… zis is torture!”   
“I’m trying!” Screamed Arthur. Nothing was working, and he couldn’t stop the machine, so he tried to open the door to the chamber and it wouldn’t open, but he kept trying. However it was too late.. the machine let of its blast of blue light, and some strange music seemed to come from nowhere, it was very unusual, like the machine itself was making the music. Arthur watched from outside the chamber as a strange swirling mass appeared behind Francis.   
“You stupid… stupid… mad scientist… I hate every bone in your stupid English bodeee!” Screamed Francis unaware of what was behind him.   
Suddenly another flash of blue light appeared and the machine powered down. Arthur stood there stunned, and took off his dark glasses. The chamber opened itself but Francis was gone, he hadn’t been disintegrated, he was just gone. Arthur went into the chamber to investigate, still completely stunned at what happened, and then he realised one thing. He thought about the picture he’d shown Francis earlier, and it came to him… that wasn’t just a picture of a man who looked like Francis… that WAS Francis.  
“Oh God… it’s a time machine…” he gasped. “I’VE CREATED A TIME MACHINE!”


	3. Arthur Hindley Kirkland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tis the past... and Arthur Kirklands ancestor is very much alive. He is young and handsome and infinately more romantic than the Arthur Kirkland Francis knows and loves.

It was the year 1827, and 6pm in the afternoon of a Tuesday in the early spring, and Lord Arthur Hindley Kirkland rode on his horse, Bess, back to his mansion. He was alone and returning from business he had in London. He was always alone, ever since the death of his wife Alice seven years before. She had died giving birth to their son, and although he tried, he was not the best of fathers, very distant from his child, and most people in general. Ever since her death he had become a recluse, hiding himself away from the world except for those rare days when he had to take care of his business, and have meetings and such. In all those years still had not been able to get over her passing. As he rode over the fields towards home, he could see the storm clouds gathering in the distance. Perhaps he would make it back before they caught up with him. To beat the storm, he rode faster and was not expecting anyone to be on the dirt track of a road, however someone was there, or rather, they were not there but suddenly seemed to appear, and he had little time to steer his horse out of the way. Bess neighed and reared up, her hooves coming down hard on the pedestrian in the way of her. She did not mean to hurt him or to almost throw her rider off, but she did receive a bit of a fright. Struggling to control his horse, Arthur eventually calmed her and dismounted, to go to the aid of the person who’d been hurt.   
In the road, lay a young man, but he was unlike any that Arthur had seen. He was wearing strange clothes and his blonde hair was worn in a very feminine style. The young man’s face was a smooth porcelain white, and he looked so innocent and lost. Unfortunately, Bess had knocked him out with her hooves, and he was unconscious for a few moments, his head bruised and bleeding.   
“Oh, dear God I am so sorry…” Hindley cried as he knelt to see if he was hurt badly. The young man slowly came around and looked at him with the most beautiful blue eyes Hindley had ever beheld. From that moment he was captivated, but he didn’t say anything, as it would be grossly inappropriate. The man couldn’t remember who or where he was at first and everything was strange, but he thought he recognised the man beside him and a name came to his lips. “Arthur?” He asked “Qu’est il arrive..?”   
“Are you French?” Hindley asked as he tried to help him to his feet. “Do you speak English?” He asked as he tried to help him up, but the young man was far too concussed to be able to stand. “Parlez Vous Anglais?” Hindley asked, but the Frenchman couldn’t answer. “How do you know my name?”   
“Pardon Monsieur?” asked the Frenchman, hardly able to focus because of the extreme pain in his head.   
“You knew my name…” Hindley said as he tried to help him again, but it was no use, he was injured quite badly. “What is your name?” he asked and then thought for a moment “Comment allez vous?”   
“Je suis… Francis…” He replied quietly.   
“Francis, I am very sorry, my horse was frightened, and she hurt you, but I’m going to get you to safety alright?” He said as he helped him stand. “You must hold on to me, don’t worry, you’ll be alright.   
Somehow, he managed to get him on to the horse, and then quickly mounted up behind him and held on to him so he wouldn’t fall off, then rode on towards his home, through the fields. It started to rain, and the storm was upon them when he finally got there, the wind and rain coming down in buckets. He carried Francis from his horse and the door was thankfully opened by the butler, Mr Townsend.   
“Get a doctor Mr Townsend, this man is hurt. Bess accidentally ran into him on the road.”   
“But of course, Mr Kirkland Sir…” Mr Townsend replied. “I shall send the maid to the town…”   
Hindley looked out at the storm and sighed. “No, it must wait till the storm has passed. Very well, I shall take care of him myself. Have Mrs Bailey bring me a set of pyjamas to the end room upstairs. And if you wouldn’t mind helping me get him there Mr Townsend?  
“Very good Sir.” Townsend replied and they both helped Francis up the stairs to the room on the end which was free.   
“Light a fire Townsend…” Hindley ordered “It may be spring but it is cold in here.” He continued as he laid Francis down on the bed. The Frenchman was still dazed and confused, and he had no idea where in the world he was, or that he had travelled back to 1827. As Mr Townsend lit a fire, the housekeeper brought him a set of pyjamas as instructed. She also brought a bowl and a cloth to help clean the mysterious stranger whom Hindley had run down on the road.   
“You need to rest…” Hindley said, not sure if Francis could understand him. “I can help you get changed into these pyjamas. I’m sorry that we didn’t get here in time to dodge the storm.”   
Suddenly the pain in his head hit him as if from nowhere, causing Francis to double up. It was horrendous. Hindley sent Townsend away and gently tried to clean the wound on Francis’ head, and get him out of those wet clothes. Francis was very much concussed and basically let the Englishman take care of him. As he removed his wet clothes, baring his body to him, Hindley felt a strange attraction towards him, and it was unusual. He’d never felt such a thing for a male in his life before, but somehow, he was attracted to him, although he tried to hide it. After all that would be completely inappropriate, and yet…somehow, he enjoyed that feeling. After helping him change and into the bed, he sat there for a few moments, quite captivated by him and for no good reason.   
“Je vous remercie…” Francis uttered as the pain subsided a little and he was able to take in his surroundings. His memory was shattered, and he didn’t really know where he was, although it did seem a little familiar somehow.   
“Parlez vous Anglais Monsieur?” Asked Hindley curiously. Eventually Francis replied in English.   
“Yes, Oui.. I do…” He said. “But … I am lost… Monsieur… “   
“You um… know who I am sir?”   
Francis thought about it for a moment. He could remember snippits of things, and little things but not everything. Even so he had an idea of who this man was.   
“Arthur…” He said “Lord Kirkland…”  
“That’s right.” Hindley replied. “Were you coming to see me? Why were you out on the road?”   
Francis really couldn’t remember why he was out there, or where he had come from. It might have been due to the concussion, or some side effect of time travelling from 1946 back to 1827 but he just couldn’t get his thoughts together. All he knew was that he was in pain and he was so very afraid, but he couldn’t understand it or explain why.   
“Monsieur… where is this place?” He asked with a panic in his soft French voice.   
“This is the Kirkland Mansion…” Hindley replied. “Were you on your way here?” He asked “Did you wish to see me?”   
“I … I don’t remember?” Francis replied. He really couldn’t and perhaps it was because he was so very afraid that he panicked so and started to cry.   
Hindley watched, unsure about what to do. People generally didn’t ever burst into tears in front of him like that, and he hardly even knew this person, but he felt like he should say or do something.   
He picked up the cloth that Mrs Bailey brought him, soaked it and awkwardly cleaned Francis’ face and still bleeding head wound.   
“There now old chap… don’t want to be crying now do we?” He uttered, not sure exactly what he should be doing. “I expect you are in a lot of pain…”   
Francis was indeed in a lot of pain and he felt delirious. Although Hindley didn’t really know what to do, Francis found his presence comforting, and that may have been because he thought or believed that it was the Arthur Kirkland he knew and loved. Eventually he was able to close his eyes and sleep, mainly because the pain was so great, and he couldn’t stay awake. Townsend brought some bandages and Hindley carefully bandaged the Frenchman’s head.   
“I am curious to know why he was coming to see me.” He uttered as Townsend listened. “He knows my name… he knows who I am. He was definitely coming here.”  
“If I may Master Kirkland…” Townsend began.   
“Yes?”  
“You did mention to the housekeeper only recently that you were looking for a tutor for your son sir.” He said “Perhaps he was on his way to apply for that position.”  
Indeed, Hindley had been talking of such things, as his son was getting older, and his nanny was wishing to leave to get married. He did not express whether he wanted a male or female tutor to apply when he put out the word to several agencies. None had yet applied as far as he knew.   
“Oh yes of course… I wonder if that’s why he was on his way here?” Hindley uttered. “Townsend, did we get a letter of commendation from anyone about him? I was able to gather that his first name is Francis.”   
“I will check for you sir.” Townsend replied with a bow, before leaving the room.   
Hindley stood at the bottom of the bed, gazing at the mysterious stranger lying there wondering who he might be. As he watched his soft breathing, he felt his heart go out to him and yet he was not quite sure why, only that he felt something for him that was unusual, and strange, and yet like nothing he’d ever felt.   
“Who are you Francis?” He uttered. “Why do I feel so drawn to you? He whispered. “Why do I think you’re…. beautiful?”   
In a way that frightened him. He’d never found another man “beautiful” before and yet, here was one that evoked a deep feeling within him. He turned away and didn’t look at him. How shameful of him to think this way, and yet… yet… he WAS beautiful.   
Back in 1946 the Arthur Kirkland Francis knew and loved was pacing the floor, thinking deeply about the problem. The decomposed body of Arthur Hindley Kirkland lay in its open coffin nearby.  
“Alright… so Francis was transported to some time in the past, using the machine…” He mumbled. “This is your fault Hindley, don’t look at me like that…” He said to the corpse. It lay there, its jaw twisted in a ridiculous direction and its eye sockets crawling with maggots. Arthur pulled a face and closed the lid on the coffin. “I’m beginning to see that Francis was right… you are disgusting…ugh…” He uttered. “What was I thinking? Revive the dead? What planet am I on for heavens sake?”   
He continued to pace the floor analysing the problem. Francis was gone, and he had to somehow get him back. “How in Gods name am I going to find him?” He sighed. “If I go and get him, there isn’t another machine there, so we can return…” he muttered. “Please don’t be lost forever Francis…” He sat down and started to work on the problem, but he couldn’t, he was so stressed and upset. For once he realised the truth, that he was truly alone. Francis was gone, and he might not be able to bring him home. He slowly sank into deep despair, teardrops falling on the paper on which he was trying to work out the problem.   
“What have I done?” He mumbled, and looked over at the machine, which he now hated. “Francis..” he uttered sadly.


	4. Sinful Attraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur Hindley Kirkland is a gentle reclusive man who has been told all his life that attraction towards another man is a bad thing.. but he finds himself attracted to Francis. Also there is a theory here about the nations - honestly it isn't cannon.. its a theory mmkay?

At the back of the Kirkland mansion, was a little summerhouse. It was round and supported by a series of ornate pillars, around which grew climbing ivy and roses. Arthur Hindley Kirkland, who was known as Hindley, would go there at dusk sometimes to play his guitar and that night was no exception. The storm had passed, and the new guest was asleep in the back bedroom, and so as he sun went down over the deserted fields, he went to play, to be alone, to calm his worried mind. He took his guitar and started to play, just the most beautiful tune, one that echoed through the summerhouse, and could be heard in the halls of the great mansion.   
“The master has a way with that guitar doesn’t he Mr Townsend.” Sighed Mrs Bailey as she cleaned up in the kitchen.   
“He has indeed…” Townsend replied. “He asked me to find out if we had a letter or commendation for the man who got hurt on the road… I found nothing. It’s strange but the master seems different towards this one… I can’t quite put my finger on why…”   
“Oh… perhaps I have an idea…” Said Mrs Bailey knowingly. Townsend looked at her nonplussed, he had no idea what she meant, but she had seen the way her master looked at that man and knew what it was. Mrs Bailey was going to wash the clothes and looked in the pockets, and there, inside Francis’ inside suit pocket was an old sepia toned photograph of himself with what looked like their master. “Mr Townsend...” She gasped “What is this?”   
Francis awoke in the back bedroom, to the sound of beautiful guitar playing somewhere in the distance. The fire was burning in the hearth but dying down a little and the sun was setting, casting its shadows around the room. The storm was gone, but his head still hurt terribly. As he lay there it all started to come back to him. He’d been trapped in the machine and something happened, and now, he was here, in this place. It was the Kirkland mansion alright, that was for certain, but it was different. It was not the freezing hellhole that he had become used to, but a warm and well-kept home. How could this have happened? He went over and over the events in his mind, but it didn’t make any sense. He’d been trampled half to death by a horse, and now lay in this room recovering and being watched over by…by Arthur… but it wasn’t Arthur it was… someone else, someone who looked exactly like him, who bore the same name, who had the same eyes, and yet… was it really not him? The gentle strumming sounds of the master playing his guitar could be heard and he couldn’t help but think it was incredibly beautiful. He’d never heard a song like it and wondered if perhaps he’d composed it himself. Francis dragged himself out of the bed, despite the pain in his head and went to the window, where he could see over to the little summerhouse. The master was indeed in there, sitting on a ledge and playing his guitar. As he watched him, Francis couldn’t help but feel something unusual, as if… somehow, he knew the man, but he couldn’t possibly know him. He looked like Arthur and even moved like him, but he had to believe that wasn’t him? Impossible. He watched him for some time, just sitting there making his music, and occasionally he would get up and walk around a little. The master was a very deep individual, extremely talented and yet he seemed to want to be alone most of the time, which was why he needed this time to himself. As he finished his guitar playing Francis hid behind the curtain a little when the master glanced upward, though he was confident that he hadn’t seen him. As Arthur Hindley turned away Francis’ heart leapt a little when he saw that he’d raised a hand to his eyes and his shoulders were shivering a little. Something hurt that poor man, something deep by the looks of it. Whatever it was, must have inspired the beautiful music he had been playing there. As the master went back inside the butler stopped him and took him to one side. “There was no letter of commendation from anyone about him Sir.” He said “Although Mrs Bailey and I… we did find something unusual on him… and I thought you might like to see, because I can’t explain it Sir…” he said and produced the photograph. Frowning, he took it and made his way up the stairs.   
Francis managed to get back to bed, and the pain seemed to subside a little. He was still very confused as to how he could be here in this mansion. It was impossible, but could he really have gone back in time? He was very surprised when there was a polite knock at the door and the master entered.   
“I do hope I’m not intruding…” He began. “But I can’t seem to find any letter of commendation for you Mr er... Francis…” He said. “I am at a loss as to why you were out there on the road, and clearly coming to see me. Do you remember anything?” He asked, “Anything at all?”   
“I… am afraid I am not sure I know what has happened to me….” Francis said, genuinely frightened, and yet comforted by the very presence of Hindley.   
Arthur Hindley produced the strange photograph as he sat beside the bed. “This is going to sound very strange… Francis… so if it doesn’t make any sense… I’m sorry.” He said quietly. “I’m not what you call a normal human being… what I am is hard to explain. You see, I… am the representation of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.”   
Francis didn’t say anything at first but continued to listen.   
“I know that sounded odd…” He said “But so was my father, and so will my son be… generations of us… retaining most of the memories of our predecessors… and somehow I think I remember you from somewhere and yet… I couldn’t…” He uttered trying not to sound crazy but that was impossible. “Sometimes we forget things here and there, but when one dies, the memories transfer to the son…” He said.   
The situation sounded so familiar to Francis, after all he was exactly the same. “Monsieur… you describe a situation that is familiar to me…” He said. “For I am the representation of France… my name is Francis Bonnefoy, and I am very pleased to meet you.”   
A half smile graced Arthur Hindley’s face and he bit his lip a little “So I do know you, or at least… my predecessors did… that must be why I’m so fascinated by you.” He continued. “It had to be something like that… and I wasn’t sure how you would respond to that family secret…” He said and handed him the photograph. “But what cannot be explained is this photograph, with next years date on it. This is from the future, and that is you with me… so… what happened?”   
“It is very hard to explain…” Francis said “You might not believe me…”   
“I can try.” Arthur Hindley replied.   
“In the future, in the year 1946, your descendent Arthur, he is a genius. You should be very proud of him.” Francis replied. “He built a … machine…”   
“A machine?” He asked. “What kind of machine…?”  
“It is hard to define Monsieur…” Francis replied. “He wanted to bring to life his long dead family, because he was the last of … the Kirklands…” he continued. “Instead it seems to be working in a different way, because you are alive, but I have been sent back in time, instead of your corpse being um… resurrected…”   
Arthur Hindley looked at him in a sort of shock or disbelief, it was hard to tell.   
“You do not believe me…” Francis said and sighed.   
“I … do… in a way… but… what I don’t understand is why the future Arthur didn’t get himself a wife or settle down or have children… I mean… is something wrong with him?”   
“No… at least not biologically, I mean… not that there is anything wrong with him at all… he just didn’t want to be with a woman or have children with a woman.” Francis said, giving a look to Arthur Hindley, and trying to hint that his future ancestor was a homosexual.   
Arthur Hindley wasn’t an idiot and he got it straight away, and maybe even understood it because he found himself attracted to a man, at least one man in particular, the one he was sitting and talking to at this very moment. Finding out the truth about him was amazing, for he had been alone for so long and to find someone who was just like him… a nation… it felt wonderful. What he couldn’t do was open up and tell him this, after all, in his life he had always been told that attraction towards another man was sinful. It was wrong, he would be punished, and even sent to jail, it was a terrible crime. He thought to himself for a moment, for although he knew he couldn’t tell this beautiful man how he was feeling, at least he could let him stay.   
“Francis…” He began. “There may be no way for you to return to your time… at least none that I can think of.” He said “But… I would be honoured if you would stay here, in my home, and perhaps we can think of something. I know this offer is somewhat out of the blue, but would you consider it?”  
Francis thought about it for a moment. He truly was trapped in this past, and it was frightening, and he didn’t know what he was going to do. Having this offer from Hindley was a good thing, it was something his mind could cling on to, in order to make sense of this strange reality. What was more, was that he was finding himself more attracted to Arthur Hindley than he ever had been towards his Arthur, it was disturbing but beautiful at the same time. He gazed at him for a moment, looking into his deep green eyes intently.   
“I would be very much grateful for that Monsieur Arthur….” He replied. “You have no idea how very much afraid I feel…”   
“You are afraid?” Arthur asked as he stared back into the eyes of Francis, finding himself completely lost in them. Instinctively he reached out and held the Frenchman’s hand, wanting to tell him not to be afraid, but as he tried to speak, he remembered that being attracted to a man is wrong, it is sinful. He heard the voices of his parents in his head, telling him how wrong it was. How could something this wonderful be wrong? And yet it was. He pulled his hand away, and stopped himself from speaking, looking down at the floor in shame. “I… I…” he started to say but couldn’t say anything in the end. Instead he sighed deeply and closed his eyes for a moment. Should he be sending this man away? Would that stop these feelings? He didn’t want to send him away, and besides he was hurt. He calmed himself and looked up. “You… um… get well and I’ll make sure you have clothes and food and uhh… then we can set about seeing how if at all… we can get you back to your time.” He uttered before standing up.   
“Arthur…” Francis said quickly as he grabbed his wrist. Arthur looked at his hand on his wrist and to him, wanting so much to lean forward and kiss him but it was wrong… wasn’t it? The Frenchman eventually let go. He smiled and nodded before leaving the room.   
Francis watched him leave, knowing they had shared a moment. He breathed heavily, his eyes full of longing, his chest heaving. Why had this Arthur not gone with his feelings that were so obviously there?   
Outside the bedroom, Arthur Hindley was in turmoil. He felt such deep feelings for Francis, and yet he knew they could never be realised, because it was sinful, it was Evil. Wasn’t that what his parents said? Wasn’t that what the law said? He leaned against the wall, his own chest heaving also. What wouldn’t he do to be able to at least kiss that fine man in there? What was wrong with him? He’d never felt this way, not even for Alice, his dear departed wife. Guilt consumed him, and he stood there shaking, and before he knew it, tears were wetting his cheeks. It surprised him, that he was crying, and he looked around to make sure no one was there, and he was glad that no servants had seen his distress.  
“Must resist…” He sighed, knowing that was going to be difficult. All he knew was, that however Francis had got there, whether it was really time travel or something else, the only person he had to rely on was him.


	5. Kissing Hindley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An encounter in the summerhouse... how quaint.

Almost two weeks went by and soon Francis was reasonably well again. The doctor had prescribed him some medication to keep the pain at bay, and he was healing. As he watched the doctor leave, Hindley then went to visit Francis to see how he was feeling. In the time he had been there recovering, he had visited him every day to make sure he was alright. They had talked about many things and got to know each other better, but Hindley always kept a safe distance from him, and didn’t try to touch him or anything, even though Francis seemed to want to reach out to him. If he did on occasion manage to touch him, then Hindley would politely move his hand from his person. He liked the Frenchman, probably more than he ought to, but because he’d been brought up to believe such feelings were inherently wrong, he resisted as much as he could. Even so, he couldn’t just stay away from him. They were friends, at least that was what he told himself.  
Once again, he politely knocked on the door before entering and he was carrying some clothes. “Good morning Francis I do hope you are feeling well.”  
“Much better today…” he replied. Arthur Hindley had been his only visitor in this time, other than a few servants here and there who came in to light the fire or do a little cleaning. He was always glad to see him.  
“I brought you something to wear and thought perhaps you would like a walk in the grounds…” Arthur Hindley said as he laid the suit on the bed. “Its one of my suits…but we look to be around the same size, though you are slightly broader around the shoulders. It shouldn’t be a problem…” He said as Francis sat on the bed. He’d been able to take of his bandages and did feel a lot better.  
“Thank you so much Arthur…” Francis replied. “A walk in the grounds sounds like a good idea, I haven’t been able to get out of bed for a long time.”  
A pang of guilt hit Hindley as he spoke. After all it was his fault that Francis was in that state. If he hadn’t been riding so fast maybe he would have seen him. “Ah… yes… but you are well on the road to recovery. The doctor has prescribed you a regular medication and is enthusiastic that you will be fine.”  
There was a silence for a few moments as they watched one another, as if one was going to say something but once again it went unsaid. Hindley bowed a little and made to leave the room. “I’ll see you at the table. Mrs Bailey is preparing a full English breakfast, so I hope you are hungry.  
Twenty minutes later Francis was washed and dressed, and he made his way down to the breakfast room where Hindley was already waiting for him, reading a newspaper and drinking his morning cup of tea. As he turned around he beheld the sight of Francis entering the room and caught his breath for he hadn’t expected him to look quite so beautiful. He had seen him only in his bed clothes, and his hair a mess, but now he had washed his hair and it was tied up in a black ribbon. He was wearing Hindley’s own suit that was only just too tight but not overly so. He was washed and clean and looking very well but for that barely visible cut on his head just under the hairline. Hindley felt his heart beat faster, but he tried to suppress any outward showing of this. “Oh, why is my heart pounding?” He thought to himself.  
“Ah there you are old chap…” He said trying to dismiss how he was feeling at that point. Francis felt good to be up and about, and happy to see Arthur sitting there waiting for him. In fact, he felt rather good wearing his clothes. It was a rather comfortable dark grey tweed, and quite warm.  
“Bonjour…” Francis replied with a big smile. “What do you think? It fits me rather well.”  
“It certainly does.” Hindley replied. “Sit down Francis. Would you like a cup of tea by any chance?”  
“Oui…, that would be lovely.” He replied.  
Everything was very polite on the surface and yet, the looks they exchanged said a lot more, their body language and the silences held more than any words they might have exchanged. Hindley couldn’t stop himself from feeling that charge of emotion, and neither could Francis, even though he knew this wasn’t his Arthur. He drank the tea and ate the full English breakfast and sat with Hindley in the breakfast room making small talk, but all the time he was imagining what it would be like to kiss him.  
“Tell me… about your friend Arthur.” Hindley said as he drank his tea. “What is he like?”  
Francis thought about it for a moment. He was so confused, because Hindley was so like him, so much that there was hardly any difference, except for maybe his personality.  
“My Arthur may be slightly mad…” He replied quietly. “But a genius, with an incredible mind.” He continued “You are very like him. You have the same eyes, the same hair, the same build, and you even move like him. You even have the same eyebrows and… your voice is just… the same…” he said and paused, truly missing his Arthur in that moment. “But your personalities are quite different.”  
“In what way?” Hindley asked, interested.  
“My Arthur is passionate, and loves his work, probably more than he loved me…” Francis replied. “But you… you are a musician, you have great talent, I hear you play every night and it has helped me recover. My Arthur can’t play an instrument, but he can build amazing things and is a great mathematician.”  
Hindley leant on the table with his hand curled under his chin, listening to him. “Were you…in a relationship with him?” He asked curiously, watching the Frenchman’s reaction.  
Francis looked distant for a moment, and so sad that he could have cried there and then. His eyes went a little out of focus and he couldn’t actually answer that question.  
“Forgive me.” Hindley replied. “That was unfair of me.” He uttered. “Let’s um… go out for that walk in the grounds I promised you.”  
Francis took a moment to recover before answering. “Oui.. that would be a good thing… it is a beautiful day non?”  
It was indeed a beautiful day, and the sun was shining. Hindley showed Francis around the grounds and out to the front of the mansion where there was a view for miles around of endless countryside and fields.  
“In my time there were more buildings and hardly any fields.” Francis said as he beheld the spectacular view.  
“I expect a lot happened between now and then?” Hindley questioned him. “Anything we need to worry about?”  
“Well… there is quite a lot to worry about.” Francis replied “In 1914 the world will erupt in war, that will last till 1918 and then again 1939 till 1945.  
“Two World Wars?” Gasped Hindley. “Surely not… I mean… the entire world at war?”  
“It may seem unbelievable to you now Arthur, but I assure you, the future is like this. War, and lots of it.”  
Hindley seemed worried about that for a while as they walked around. “Well, my family have been in many wars but never a world war… it sounds exciting… and maybe a little terrifying.”  
“There’s nothing great about the world wars.” Francis replied. “I fought alongside Arthur and…” he said but stopped as he found it hard to speak of Arthur, knowing that he could never see him again. They walked around and stopped at the little summerhouse at the back of the mansion. “This was built when I took over the mansion. What do you think? Do you like it?” Hindley asked. “I designed it myself… had it built… the acoustics inside are phenomenal.”  
Francis didn’t say a word, he just leant on one of the pillars, looking out to a small pond full of water flowers outside of the summerhouse. He recalled that pond wasn’t there in the future and the summerhouse was falling apart, but here in this time it was an incredibly beautiful place. He leaned against one of the pillars and closed his eyes, and Hindley watched, not sure what to say or do. It seemed he couldn’t make things better for Francis no matter what he said or did.  
Francis was overcome as he leant there thinking about Arthur and his current situation. The reality of it all hit him like a brick. He sort of turned away into the pillar and let out a deep sob and cried softly. Once again feeling slightly awkward Hindley reached out and placed a hand on his back gently. “Come now…old chap…” He began. “You…you’ll see him again… “  
Francis turned to him with red eyes, his face all puffy from crying and looked at him desperately. Hindley paused, afraid of this feeling and yet so wanting to say or do something. He reached out to Francis and sort of caught him in his arms. “Je suis desole." sobbed Francis "You look so like him, and you talk like him… and you can’t not be… “ he uttered. Hindley didn’t know how to respond, so he said nothing, but then out of the blue he felt the Frenchman’s lips on his, and he was kissing him.  
Alarmed at first, Hindley’s first instinct was to push him away, and of course he tried to but the feeling was too strong and instead he ended up kissing him back. This was not like kissing a woman, this was so different. It was more exciting, it was thrilling. His lips were stronger, and yet so soft. The kiss deepened, charged with emotion, as Francis held him, pulling him in closer, he placed his hand upon his backside and just kept kissing. As each pulled back, Francis looked at Arthur Hindley, who was finding it hard to breathe, giving little shallow gasps, as he was quite overwhelmed.  
“I kissed you…” Hindley uttered sounding alarmed and panicky. “Oh my God…”  
Francis nodded, gazing intently into his eyes. “I have wanted to do that for a long time…” He said. “I… I’m sorry… Je suis Desole…” He uttered. “I could not stop myself…”  
Hindley was still breathing erratically. The Frenchman had nothing to be sorry about, it was the most thrilling moment of his entire life up until that point. A moment later it was Hindley who kissed Francis back, cupping his cheek with his hand he pressed his lips against his, and then they melted into a deep French kiss, and he didn’t want to stop. “Fuck…” He gasped as he kissed him over and over. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen…” he uttered in breathy whispers, “I can’t leave you alone… I won’t.. “ he moaned as he pushed him back against the pillar.


	6. Inner Passions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you fell out of the ether into the path of a Romantic Hero from 1827 you'd want some romance... right? So here's some romance... right.. and maybe some sex..

Hindley kept kissing Francis, and then held him close. Inside he knew such feelings had to be wrong but this man was special, he wasn't sinful, he was a gentle and lost soul who needed him in those moments. He questioned his upbringing. Had everything he'd been taught about love and live and relationships been completely wrong? Was it possible to love a man after all? Francis held on to him, still feeling very upset but comforted by his kisses and the way he was holding him. Arthur never held him like that, close to his chest, comforting him. Hindley was so different, so deep, and he seemed to care more about Francis' feelings than Arthur ever did. Even so he missed him so much, and Hindley was being so nice about everything, he just couldn't let go.

"You know… that was the first time I have ever kissed another man…" Hindley whispered. "I think everything I have been told was a lie. It is beautiful to kiss you…" He murmured. Francis buried his face Hindley's chest, just needing that comfort some more. Hindley had never opened up to anyone nor did he actually know how to comfort someone, but he tried his best, gently and tentatively stroking the Frenchman's silky hair, wondering if he was doing it right.

The sky turned dark and it began to rain heavily, being a typical British spring. They had no idea how long they sat in the summerhouse together, just being with one another.

"I know I'm not… him… your Arthur…" Hindley said "But… maybe… I could mean… something to you…"

Eventually Francis felt like he could speak again. Those moments with Hindley were so enchanting that he felt a little dumbstruck and just listened to what he was saying. "I think you could mean a lot…to me…" He replied.

Hindley was still a little clueless, and even felt very emotional, but he had never cried in front of anyone and wasn't going to start now, he just blinked and tried to control it, after all that's what he had been taught to do. Always cry on your own, never in anyone's presence, no matter what the circumstances.

Eventually, and because it was raining so hard, they decided it would be best to go inside and talk. Hindley helped Francis to his feet and put his arm around him as they walked back to the house. When they got there, Hindley took him into the lounge and locked the door. It was one thing for him to want to be with Francis but no one else should ever see them, not even the servants. There was a fire burning in the hearth and it was quite cosy.

"Here, sit down…" Hindley gestured to the small sofa in the room. "There are things we need to talk about…"

Francis did as he was told and sat down on the sofa, he wasn't upset anymore, he was feeling something different now, something deep, and all consuming.

"You're such a beautiful man Francis…" Hindley continued "If only you could comprehend how I see you…"

"I'll never get back to my time will I Arthur?" Francis sort of asked but it was more of an affirmation.

"Your Arthur might have been a genius…" Hindley replied "But I am a mere musician, I don't know anything about mathematics and formulas and… I'd never be able to construct a… machine…" he said "It would seem you are trapped here." He said "I don't believe there is a way for you to return."

"Then I have to forget about him…" Francis uttered. His face crumpled and he tried to suppress the emotion that caused it.

"Hush…" Came Hindley's deep comforting voice "I'm here." He said… "Your grief is deep, and… like a bereavement…" He uttered, still wondering if he was helping him any. "I lost my wife seven years ago, and that pain was terrible."

"Your wife? The mother of your son?" Francis asked, trying to think of something else other than his predicament and the thought that he would never see his Arthur again.

"Her name was Alice… we'd been promised to one another since we were four years old." Hindley said, as he looked to the floor and sighed. He went over to the drinks cabinet and poured two glasses of wine, he handed one to Francis and stood by the fire, his hand on the lintel gazing into the flames. "She died giving birth to him." He uttered. "I have loved no one ever since… I… haven't been able to."

Hindley drank his wine and paused for a few moments. Still he obeyed the rules of his upbringing, never to cry in front of anyone, ever, though it was hard. Francis saw it though, that even though he shed no tears, he was crying inside. His grief was deep too, the loss of his wife must have hurt him so much. Hindley really understood him, because he'd been through it too, in a different way, but it was still a loss.

"Your son… how old is he?"

"Young Arthur will be seven years old in a few weeks." Hindley replied with a smile. "He knows nothing of who and what he will become when he is older." He said with fondness in his voice. "You don't have a child do you Francis?"

"No…" He replied "But… I always wanted one…"

Hindley thought for a moment and drank his wine. "I shall have to introduce you to him. He is away at the moment with friends. When he returns you must get to know him."

"I would like that very much." Francis replied. "I hope he will like me."

"I'm sure he will." Hindley replied as he finished his wine. "Do you mind if I...? " He began as he sat next to Francis on the sofa. He stroked his face, cupping his cheek gently before kissing him once more. Mesmerised, Francis responded, making little moans as Hindley kissed him. This was pure, this was genuine, and it meant a great deal to Francis, to know he cared. The rain fell like the end of the world happening outside, and all they could hear was the crackling of the fire in the hearth. The soft light reflected in Hindley's eyes, as he gazed at the Frenchman with such dark intensity. This man was strong and calm, as if he was on fire on the inside, yet on the outside, tranquil and serene. Francis couldn't help but feel his body move in a very sensual way, as Hindley touched him, caressed him, and held him. It was very noticeable, and there was nothing he could do about it. The Englishman pulled back and glanced down to him and back to his eyes. No words were spoken but Francis felt Hindley touch him, ever so softly between his legs, just being extremely gentle. In truth Hindley felt that Francis might break like glass, and so he handled him with care. Francis groaned a little, and moved so that Hindley could gain more access to him. Feeling brave, Hindley slipped his hand down the front of Francis' britches still being gentle, and not really sure if he was doing it right, but trying his best. He didn't speak, he just leaned in and kissed him deeply, giving him pleasure, and feeling encouraged by his moans of passion. His heart beat faster as he Francis' breathing became more erratic, as his body writhed under his touch. This was fascinating. He'd never seen this reaction before, it was quite a turn on, it was exciting, it was passionate. Suddenly Francis' body tensed up and he grabbed Hindley's shoulder, he knew what was happening, and pleasured him even more till he felt that sweet release on his fingers.

"Arthur…" gasped Francis, as he clung to him, shaking.

"You beautiful creature…." Hissed Hindley as he kissed him softly on his trembling lips.


	7. Pain and Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hindley's passion is far deeper than anticipated, tune in and gaze upon his sexual prowess and glory, as he. England, conquers France's vital regions. Here have popcorn... gaze wantonly on manly bodies...

Francis relaxed on the sofa, his body burning with anticipation, as Hindley continued to feverently kiss him, even though he had just made him come in the most tender and gentle way. It seemed he was possessed of a deeper and more intense energy under the surface, a darker presence hid behind those deep green eyes, and he wanted more. He started off my removing Francis’ waistcoat, and undressing him slowly. His kisses were continuous and sensual, as his tongue explored his lover’s sweet mouth. “Arthur…” gasped Francis, overcome with the moment. “I want you…” he uttered in breathy sighs. In those moments he knew he would do anything for him.   
“Don’t call me Arthur…” Hindley replied, with a low growl in his voice still being extremely gentle, but with an edge, like there was so much more to come. “My name is Hindley… say my name.”   
“Hindley…” uttered Francis through wanton kisses, as his lover continued to undress him, undoing his shirt buttons one by one.  
“That’s it…” He whispered as he pulled his lovers shirt down over his shoulders, gazing hungrily at his body. He had never made love to a man before, but he knew what he was doing, as he took hold of his shoulders and gently pushed him down on the sofa. Francis willingly laid back for him, as he started to remove his britches, leaving him naked and vulnerable in his arms. Hindley was reassuring and kept kissing him, and biting his neck gently, and then he took off his own shirt throwing it carelessly on the floor. For once Francis viewed his well toned body in the firelight, leaning over him, and then Hindley straddled him, being a little rougher than he had been previously, as his arousal became more apparent.   
“Do you want this, Francis?” He asked undoing his belt.   
“Oui Hindley…” He replied. “I want you…” I said, remembering not to call him Arthur, even though that was his first name.   
At first he was very gentle, because he wanted to care for his lover, he didn’t want to hurt him. However, it was inevitable that it would happen, as he made love to him. To make it easier, he hauled Francis legs up and over his shoulders, before pressing down hard. Francis lay there, his body twisted into this unnatural position, gripping the contours of the sofa and once again aroused and ready. Hindley undid the ribbon in Francis’ hair and wrapped his silky locks around his wrist, pulling on it, becoming rougher, and taken with the fervour of lovemaking. Francis was shaking, wanting so much to cry out, as Hindley grasped his hair, and thrust hard, but knew if he did then the servants would hear, and they might come in and catch them together, and so it was with a great effort that he stopped himself, instead letting out a stifled whimper. It was extremely painful, but pleasurable at the same time, but Hindley had only just begun, he pushed harder and harder and even when he saw the tears sparkling in Francis’ eyes he still didn’t stop. He kept going, like a man possessed, with passion and energy, grunting like a wild animal, and Francis, lying underneath him, whimpering and crying, feeling like he’d been sliced in half, his body twisting wildly, as he clung to him, gasping for a breath, he felt him deep inside, over and over and it was like he would never stop. Hindley’s veins stuck out on his neck, and he reared up, his face flushed deep red as he climaxed hard, pulling on Francis hair, practically wrenching it out of his head and he too, using every ounce of effort to stop himself screaming out. Francis writhed under his body, groaning a little, as he too climaxed at the same time.  
“Hindley…. Hindley…” He uttered with shaking breath, tears streaming down his face. “It…hurts…”   
Consumed with guilt, Hindley eased off, and let Francis rest. That was thrilling, it was the most exciting and wonderful thing he’d ever done in his life, but he was also concerned for Francis. As he let him go, he helped him sit up and then held him close, feeling him tremble and cry in his arms. “Hush… its alright…” He murmured in gentle tones.   
Francis just held on to him, not wanting to let him go, feeling lost in his masterful embrace. Could this really be the first time Hindley had made love to man? It was like he knew what he was doing, he was surprisingly confident, and caring and above all reassuring, which was what Francis needed.   
“Are you alright Francis?” Hindley asked, genuinely concerned for him and hoping he hadn’t hurt him too much.   
“Oui…” He replied as he recovered, before reaching up to kiss him again. “I am more than alright…” He uttered. “Vous etes encroyable…” He said with passion still coursing through him.   
“I dreamed of making love to you for the longest time…and I thought I never would… but…” whispered Hindley “I can’t believe I did it…” He said “That was the most exciting thing I have ever done.” he said and paused “I…I love you…”   
Francis knew what a big thing that was for him to say, after all it had been seven years since his wife’s passing and he’d been alone all that time, unable to love anyone, and yet here he was confessing his love. He placed his hand upon Hindley’s flushed cheek and looked into his eyes. He did love him, he could see that, and before he could even think about it he whispered the words back to him “Je t’aime Hindley…” he said “Je t’aime…”   
“In time… Francis, our love will overcome all the hurt we have both had to face. You might never forget your Arthur, I understand this, but please know that I love you, and I will always love you.” 

Back in 1946 Arthur was still trying to find a way to retrieve Francis from the past and bring him home. He had no idea that the man he loved had given up on the idea of ever getting back to his time, and had cast him aside in favour of his Great Grandfather. All he knew was that he had to get him back, and he missed him terribly. Nothing was working, and he knew he couldn’t’ do this by himself, he needed some help, and so reluctantly, he decided he would advertise for a new assistant. He did however have faith that Francis would come home one day. “When you come back Francis I swear I will destroy this infernal machine, and give you the life you deserve.” He vowed to himself, wishing that Francis was there to hear it.


	8. Arthur's Eureka Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Arthur finds a way to return to the past and retrieve Francis, but not before sending Feliciano Vargas back to 1592 by mistake. Its a long story.. hahaha.   
> Listen to "While my guitar gently weeps." for effect.. if you like.

Listen to "While my guitar gently weeps" by the Beatles for effect.

Six months he'd been trying to find a way to get back to the year 1827 but everything failed. It was useless. Arthur had tried everything from using magical incantations, to upgrading the machine to house a small nuclear reactor but it was futile. The thing worked when it was only steam powered, and he thought that atomic power would do it, but still nothing. It was a dead parrot of a machine, except for the strange music it kept emitting now and again. Night after night he toiled, sweated, and came up with theory after theory, all without success. His new assistant, Feliciano Vargas, a young Italian sent there by the agency, wasn't much help. He would take the notes and get them wrong or sit there doing nothing all day, or doing stupid things.

"You are never gong to be able to get Francis back from 1828." he said as he handed Arthur a spanner. Arthur was fixing something under the machine, as once again it had broken down.

"I have to try!" He replied "I can't leave him stranded there all alone. Anything could happen to him. He could be hurt or even killed…" Arthur continued as he fixed the machine. "And all because of this stupid thing. I wish I'd never created it, then Francis would still be here.

"But how do you even know where he is?" Feliciano answered. "If its true what you say about your machine, could he not have ended up anywhere?"

"He could have. But let me show you something." He said and led his new assistant up to the attic where he showed him the photograph album, and the picture of his Great Grandfather Hindley standing next to Francis. The sepia toned photograph having mysteriously reappeared back in its place.

"That is my Great Grandfather Arthur Hindley Kirkland, and next to him is Francis, can you see? That's how I know where in time he is, because of this picture. The strange thing is, it vanished for a while and then I looked back in the album and lo and behold it had returned… so it must be right, he must have had the picture taken and it was replaced in the album.

"Your Great Grandfather looks a lot like you Arturo…" Feliciano said as he admired the photograph. "He has your hair, your stature, your eyebrows…" He laughed. "I would have thought he was you…"

"Alright yes… Francis said the same thing… I don't see it myself." Arthur replied.

"And look how close he and Francis stand, look are they holding hands as well?"

Arthur snatched the photo out of the photo album. He hadn't noticed this before, but Feliciano was right. They were in fact holding hands, although the photo was so faded it was hard to see that. This worried Arthur a little, but he tried to dismiss his thoughts on that, as Francis would never do a thing like that, not when he knew Arthur would come and get him.

Feliciano was looking at some other photographs and pictures in the attic. On the wall was a large oil painting of another of Arthurs ancestors, a man in a dark suit with a ruffled collar and long black cloak. Next to him was someone lying on a bed in a very erotic way, half undressed, and hard to tell if it was a male or a female. Once again the man in the painting was the double of Arthur, even down to the eyebrows and the hairstyle.

"Who is this?" Asked Feliciano, over awed by the painting.

"That is my fifteen times great Grandfather Arthur William Kirkland… who lived in this mansion in the 1500s a very long time ago. The person painted with him was rumoured to be some sort of concubine, but nobody knows who she was."

"Could be a boy there…" Feliciano laughed.

"Well… either way it's a mystery… one that may never be solved." Arthur replied.

"Wow..." Feliciano said as he admired the painting. "What a time to be alive…"

"Indeed." Arthur replied "So you see, this is how I know where Francis went. Feliciano, are you listening?"

"Si… I was… I just think you have so much history in your home Arturo."

"Yes … well… lets get on with the experiments." Arthur said and they went back down to try some other things with the machine.

Arthur handed Feliciano a flowering plant. "Take this into the machine and leave it on the floor… I am going to try to transport it back in time and retrieve it using my new algorithm."

Feliciano wasn't listening. "What?" He asked dreamily. "Take this in there?"

"Yes, take the plant in there…"

Arthur started up the machine and looked over at the plant Feliciano had left on the floor, whilst he went into the machine.

"No, you're supposed to put the plant in there… not yourself!" Yelled Arthur as the machine chamber closed on Feliciano.

"Arturo!" he cried "Your machine is locked, I can't get ouuuut!" he screamed, hammering at the door and trying to open it.

"Feli!" Yelled Arthur, trying everything he could to open the door, but it wouldn't open. As he stood there, the machine let out its flash of blue light and weird music, and he saw a huge swirling mass appear behind Feliciano.

"Oh no… no ….not you too!" he exclaimed listening to Feliciano's distorted screams.

Soon the machine powered down and the door opened, and Feliciano was gone. It just seemed so obvious, could it really be true? Had Feliciano ended up back in the 1500s with Arthur William Kirkland?

"You have got to be kidding me…" uttered Arthur, realising who the concubine in the painting could have been.

In 1592 Arthur William stood on a dark stage in front of a few spectators, holding up a skull and reciting a play.

"To be or not to be… that is the question… whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune or to take up arms against a sea of trouble and by opposing… end them…" he uttered dramatically. As he did this, someone stumbled on to the stage, it was Feliciano, looking lost and bewildered. He took one look at the small audience, and Arthur William on the stage, screamed and ran off.

"I say!" uttered Arthur William. "Stop that man!" He cried and bounded off the stage after him.

Meanwhile back in 1946 Arthur gazed in wonder at the machine. First it sent Francis back to 1827 and then Feliciano back to 1592 but would it work for him? No… it was being temperamental. Just like a time machine… with a bad temperament.

"Gerrr!" Roared Arthur at the machine. But it was a machine and had no personality, or did it? Thinking about what happened, Arthur began to pace the floor. Francis sees picture of Hindley, is transported to Hindley's time… Feliciano sees picture of William… is transported to William's time.. hmm.. I get it…" he grumbled. "They go to whatever their mind has fixated on.. whatever time that…" He stopped realising he had a photograph of Francis in his pocket that he kept there just to look at and weep over occasionally. He took it out and looked at him again. "It's whoever they were fixated on when they went into the machine isn't it Francis? If I am fixated on you, the machine will find you and send me there…. But… but then how would I get back?" He grumbled. "I'd have to take a machine with me… and then Arthur had an idea. A big smile spread across his face and his eyes lit up. "EUREKA!" he cried out.

Meanwhile in 1827 Arthur Hindley had introduced Francis to his son Arthur and the boy seemed to have accepted him as his father's friend. Somehow it was as though Hindley was easing him into the family, hoping that young Arthur would get used to having him around and doing things here and there. Francis got to work teaching the boy French twice a week, so that the servants would believe that's what he was there for, and then no awkward questions would be asked. He occupied the end room upstairs and had his own space but mostly he spent his time with the master, who would take him out riding and other activities.

Young Arthur was doing well in his studies, and as he finished, one fine afternoon, Hindley entered the little study.

"I hear Arthur is doing very well Monsieur Bonnefoy." He said as he looked to Francis and then his son who smiled back innocently. "What can you say in French now Arthur?" He asked the boy who looked very proud of himself.

"Hello Father." He replied politely. "I can say many things now." He said. "Bonjour, ca va? Ca va merci, et toi?"

Hindley chuckled as he spoke "That's very good Arthur…" he said.

"Je t'aime mon Pere…" He said proudly, happy that he could speak French.

"My word… you have taught him well Monsieur Bonnefoy…" He said. "I think we can let young Arthur have the afternoon off don't you?"

"Oui Monsieur Kirkland. He has done so well today. He may have this afternoon off."

"Aw brilliant, I'm going to play outside…yaaay…" he cried and ran out of the room. When the boy was out of sight, Hindley turned to Francis and moved closer to him, so close that Francis could feel the heat of his breath on his lips, and his arm sliding around his waist.

"I think my son likes you…don't you?" he uttered with a small smile on his lips.

"He…is a very clever boy. Just like his father..." Francis replied as he looked into Hindley's deep green eyes.

"I want you to be… like a second father to him." He uttered. "Would that be a problem Francis?"

"I would be honoured…" He replied.

Hindley gently kissed his lips and hugged him. "It's almost like…a family isn't it?"

"Very much so." Francis replied allowing himself to be held and loved by Hindley. In the few months he'd been in this time, despite the fact that Hindley could get rough when he made love to Francis, everything else seemed idyllic and perfect.

"You were playing your guitar beautifully last night Mon cher… I heard you.. it was inspiring…" Francis said. "You are so talented…"

"That song I wrote for you." He chuckled. "Come outside to the summerhouse, I'll play it for you."

"Oh.." uttered Francis, who was flattered by this. "But of course…" He replied and they went outside to the little summerhouse, that was by this time, covered in green climbing Ivy and roses, and looked so romantic in the afternoon sunshine. Hindley took with him his beautiful redwood guitar and when he was sure that they were alone, he started to play the song he dedicated to Francis.

"I look at our love, and I feel my heart beating, while my music cries for you…

And I watch you there when I know you are sleeping, while my music sighs for you…oo

And the night touches your soul, a heart of gold, I will invite my love

As our bodies entwine, I will make you be mine, I will excite my love…"

Francis sat mesmerised, listening to the gentle stepping notes of the guitar, and Hindley singing like an angel. This was wonderful, and it made him feel special. They stayed there all afternoon and into the evening. It was lovely and warm, and they were alone.

"You know what would be nice…" Hindley mumbled as he kissed Francis and nibbled on his earlobe. "Wine." He uttered. "You wait here and I will get the wine…" He said. "Don't go anywhere my love…"

"I do not intend to Mon amour…" Francis replied and sat down on the ledge. The summerhouse was lit up by a few small candles and it felt so nice to be there. The last thing that he was expecting was to hear a familiar voice whisper to him from outside.

"Francis… Francis…" came the voice. He recognised it… this wasn't Hindley… it was Arthur. In some sort of alarm and fear and whatever else, Francis exited the summerhouse and there standing a few feet away wearing a backpack, with all manner of cranks and cogs on it, was Arthur.

"Arthur?" Gasped Francis. He didn't know whether to run to him or stay where he was or what.

"It worked!" He said excitedly. "I made a smaller version of the machine and brought it with me… I've come to get you, to bring you home!"


	9. Challenged to a Duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the days where women had no rights at all, selfish and unscupulous males fought over them, pretty much in the same way as stags fight over their females. So here we are in 1827 and yes I know technically Francis is not a girl, but he is kind of a girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to "Pumped up Kicks" by "Foster the People" for effect.

At first Francis was ecstatic. He ran to Arthur and hugged him so tight he nearly fell over. “Oh Arthur I’ve missed you!” he cried fondly, then stepped back and looked him up and down. “It’s you, it really is you!” he cried. “You look so good!” He said, taking in the familiar form of his Angleterre, the man he’d known and loved for a long time.   
“So do you.” Arthur replied. “Is that tweed you are wearing?”   
“Oh… it is. My clothes were inappropriate, so Hindley, your Great Grandfather, he lets me wear his clothes.” Francis said.   
“Does he?” Inquired Arthur, as he bit his lip.   
“He’s been very kind to me.” Francis replied. “But I’ have missed you so much!”   
“I’ve missed you too Francis, more than you’ll ever know…” Arthur replied. “I thought I’d never see you again. But I worked on the problem and I came up with a solution. It was so simple, build a smaller version of the machine, and here it is cunningly disguised as a backpack.”   
“Mon Dieu!” Francis exclaimed. “C’est magnifique! You are a genius Arthur!”   
“Now you can come back with me, and by God Francis, I’ll destroy the machine, I’ll give you the life you always wanted!”   
“Oh… but…but…” Francis took a step back, looking very worried. “I… can’t…” He said. “I thought I’d never see you again, I was grieving for you, it was like you were dead.” He said with a desperately sad look on his face. “Now you’re back… and it’s not fair Arthur…”   
“What are you talking about.” Arthur grabbed his wrist roughly. “Come on Francis we have to go!”   
“Let go of me, you’re hurting me…” He cried as Arthur grabbed him.   
“We have to go home, why are you resisting?”   
“Arthur, you don’t understand…” He cried “something’s happened…”   
Suddenly Hindley appeared from nowhere and punched his future counterpart in the face, causing him to stagger backward. “Unhand him you fiend!” he roared. “Is this man hurting you Francis?” He asked with concern, rubbing Francis’ arm.   
“Hindley!” He cried, then whispered “It’s Arthur… from my time…”   
“What?” He uttered, then looked closely at the unwelcome intruder. His eyes widened when he realised he was looking at a future version of himself, from 1946. “Oh my….God…” he uttered. “It is impossible…”   
“No Hindley, the word you are looking for is implausible….” Arthur replied as he wiped the blood from his mouth. “Nothing is impossible.”   
“Touche old chap…” Hindley replied, looking at him curiously. “What the Devil…?”   
“Hindley… finally I get to meet you.” Arthur said still recovering from being punched in the face. “In my time you’re a stinking corpse, crawling with maggots and worms. It was you I was trying to revive… now I see you in the flesh I realise you are still nothing but a stinking corpse.”   
“How dare you insinuate such things you… Charlatan!” Growled Hindley. “Why don’t you go back to where you came from?”   
“I’m here for Francis.” He said. “Francis come on, we have to go home.”   
Hindley didn’t let Francis speak, he spoke for him and pushed Arthur backward a little. “Francis isn’t going anywhere with you. And I don’t like your tweed Sir!” He yelled. “You can’t just waltz in here after abandoning him to his fate…”   
“It was an accident!” Arthur retorted. “And may I add your tweed is certainly not top notch, I don’t like it either, so there!”   
“Please don’t fight over me…” Cried Francis but was completely ignored.   
“My tweed is the finest in the land. I don’t know what you call this nonsense you’re wearing!” Growled Hindley “But it is a dreadful cut, and your tailor has no dress sense, and thus neither do you.”   
“OH really? Well at least I have decent clothes to wear, not like this old-fashioned baloney…” Arthur replied. “I am here for Francis give him up or you’ll regret it!”  
“I challenge you to a duel to the death Sir!” Hindley said and slapped him in the face with a glove.   
“Did you just challenge me to a duel?” Arthur asked, all fired up, somehow a duel was exciting.   
“I did indeed Sir, pistols at dawn, on the bridge, over the river. If I win Francis stays with me!” Hindley retorted angrily.   
“You’re on. I will not lose, and Francis shall return with me!” Arthur replied with equal anger.   
“Wait wait wait… Mon Dieu! This is madness… should I not be allowed to decide which of you I want to be with?” Cried Francis.   
“What are you talking about?” Hindley asked shaking his head. “The duel to the death has been declared.”   
“That’s right Francis, once an Englishman has agreed to a duel to the death it must be satisfied.” Arthur said in agreement. “At least Hindley and I agree on that one.”  
“But… you…” He stammered “That means one of you must die…” He uttered. “No… don’t do it.. Arthur… call off this charade. I love you, but I love Hindley too.”   
Hindley put his arms around Francis and held him, much to Arthurs disgust. “I love you Francis, you know what we have is far more precious than anything he could ever offer you. Look at what we have here, our life together, our child, our summerhouse, our home… I will not let you go without a fight… you are mine.”   
“But Hindley, he could shoot you and you will die, don’t you understand?” Francis cried. “Am I truly worth dying over?”   
“Yes.” Arthur and Hindley answered in unison. Then stared angrily at one another.   
“I will give you the life you always wanted Francis.” Arthur replied “I have been researching some chemicals and worked out a way to make a man conceive and carry a baby for nine months. You could have my child just as we hoped for.”   
“Oh…” gasped Francis “zat sounds fascinating…”   
“Men do not have babies.” Hindley said and flicked Arthur on the nose. “Men are not born with the equipment to have babies.” He said “What kind of world is this future place where men give birth?”   
“Ow!” cried Arthur. “What the hell do you think you are doing?”   
“Listen to me Arthur. Francis was in pieces when he was just abandoned here. You have no idea what it was like for him. He cried night after night, he was lost, he wanted you and for whatever reason, you weren’t there. I held him Arthur, not you, me. I was there.” He hissed angrily. “Why can’t you leave well enough alone?”   
Francis watched this scene and buried his head in his hands. He loved them both, but they were both so different, in many ways.   
“As we duel in the morning you can sleep in the outhouse.” Hindley said, straightening himself up, and pointing to a small cottage like building in the grounds of the mansion. “It would not do to refuse you hospitality, after all it is your house too.”   
“At least you have some decency about you Hindley.” Grumbled Arthur. “I respect you for that at least… it will be a shame to kill you. But you did lay down the challenge.” He said. “ I tell you Francis is coming home with me, no matter what you say. Even if this changes history.”   
“In your dreams.” Hindley replied. “I won’t see you hurt him again.” He said and put his arm around Francis possessively, walking with him back to the house as Arthur looked on, seething with anger and jealousy. Francis walked along with his head in his hands, utterly devastated at the thought of what was going to happen in the morning. What could he do about it? He loved Arthur desperately, but in the months he’d been with Hindley, their relationship had grown into something wonderful, and could he really leave young Arthur when they were finally starting to feel like a family? The thought of either of them dying in a duel scared him a lot. He had to do something but what could he do? Why wasn’t anyone listening to what he wanted? Why was he being treated like some inanimate object or prize? The thoughts that ran through his head were driving him insane. He didn’t want to lose either of them. What a nightmare.


	10. Pistols at Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry but your writer was too distressed and crying too hard in order to write this bit because it is so utterly utterly sad in many ways. Read on...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to "Peter Pan RIP" by Kula Shaker for feels and effect and that.

Hindley took Francis back to the mansion quite forcibly making him move. He was quite angry that Arthur had just turned up out of the blue like that, expecting him just to be able to leave with him. How dare he? Francis was really upset, and very worried about both of them. When they got back inside, Francis sat on the stairs with his elbows on his knees and just cried quietly. Young Arthur was there, about to go to bed when he saw him. He was an innocent boy and had no idea what was wrong, but his little heart went out to Francis. “Don’t cry Monsieur Bonnefoy.” He said and took his hand. Francis stopped for a moment, touched by his innocence and kindness.  
“Mr Bonnefoy will be alright Arthur.” Hindley said as he ushered him upstairs. “It’s your bedtime, go on.”  
He looked at his father and back to Francis sadly before making his way upstairs.  
“He is a gentle petit garcon…” Francis gulped.  
“Indeed.” Hindley replied. “He would miss you if you left.”  
Francis’ eyes filled with tears again as he sat there, his shoulders wrenching uncontrollably. “You would never shoot your own son would you Hindley?”  
“What?” He gasped “Of course not…”  
“How can you shoot him? How can you murder your own Great Grandson? It doesn’t make any sense!” Francis yelled, tears streaming down his face. “Don’t shoot him Hindley please!”  
“Francis… “ Hindley began as he reached out with the back of his hand and stroked his soft porcelain cheek. He leaned into his touch as if it was the most needed and wonderful thing in the world. “Oh…” He uttered, wanting so much for Hindley just to hold him, but he stood up, and turned his back, his distress all too clear. “I don’t know how you can even contemplate killing him… I can’t conceive of it!” he cried and started running up the stairs. Hindley chased after him, concerned for him, wanting to hold him and comfort him but Francis was too distressed.  
“Francis, wait!” He yelled “Just calm down, just let me explain…”  
Francis didn’t wait or calm down, he ran into his bedroom and put a chair under the handle to lock it as there was no actual lock. Then he threw himself on to the bed, sobbing hard, needing and wanting Hindley’s love but knowing that he shouldn’t, not while he had this notion of duelling with Arthur, it was sheer madness.  
“Francis open the door this instant!” Yelled Hindley as he tried to get in, pulling and pushing at the handle. “Francis! Do you hear me?” He screamed, banging hard on the door. “I have to fight him its only right!” He yelled “He can’t just come back and expect you to go with him… to leave me… to just walk away!” He roared, kicking at the door. “Open the door for Gods sake!”  
He did not open the door. All Hindley could hear behind the locked door was him crying softly into his pillow. “Oh Francis…” He uttered, breathing erratically. “… just open the door… just... don’t cry darling please…”  
He sighed and leaned against the door. He was very upset but still didn’t shed a tear. Young Arthur watched from his bedroom door, looking very afraid and very sad. As his father was walking past, he stopped, and stared at him. “Arthur?” He uttered. “You should be in bed… off you go…”  
“Don’t fight forever Daddy…” He uttered, his little eyes so innocent. He wasn’t to know what the real issues were at his tender age.  
“We won’t.” Hindley replied. “You go to bed, everything is alright.” He said quietly. “Go on.”  
Hindley watched his son go to bed and closed the door. Francis was of course right, it was madness. He went downstairs to the study and poured himself a very large glass of wine, drinking it straight down. He had a decision to make, and he didn’t want to make it. He picked up his guitar and started strumming to calm his mind, the tune echoing through the halls of the mansion. Francis could hear it in his bedroom as his heart broke. He clutched at the bedcovers, wishing that things could be different.  
Arthur, meanwhile had been offered accommodation at the outhouse which he’d accepted. The servants brought him bed covers and a cup of tea so he would be comfortable. He had shot guns before in the war, but he’d never been involved in a duel like this, and with his own Great Grandfather of all people. It had to be done, he had to come home.  
“If you don’t mind me saying sir…” Mr Townsend uttered as he brought the tea. “You and the master could be twins, you look so alike.”  
“He and I are… distant family members.” He said in reply. “As you can tell.”  
“I am Mr Townsend, the butler. If you need anything, do ring the bell.” He said indicating to a string hanging from the ceiling. “It leads to a wire outside that runs through to the kitchen. Quite ingenious.” He said as he poured the tea. “Do you like milk with your tea Sir?”  
“Yes please.” Arthur replied. “Are you aware of what’s happening in the morning?” Arthur asked.  
“No Sir, should I be?”  
“The duel? Has your master not told you?”  
“Duel Sir?” Townsend asked, alarmed. “No, he did not mention it, but then again, he was busy arguing with Mr Bonnefoy about something.”  
“Arguing?”  
“Terribly Sir.” He replied. As he finished making his cup of tea. “Do you require anything else sir?”  
“No this is fine, thank you Townsend.” Arthur replied. “I expect your master will inform you of what is going to happen.” He said “But it is me he will be duelling with.”  
“OH….” Townsend uttered. “Then… I should inform you that Master Kirkland is a crack shot Sir. Never misses, ever.”  
“Thank you for that…” He replied. “You may go.”  
“Very good sir.” 

The night seemed like an endless one. Francis didn’t get any sleep at all for worrying about what would happen the next day. Hindley, spent most of the night getting drunk and playing sad tunes on his guitar, but he was going to go ahead with the duel no matter what anyone said. He was adamant that no one was going to ruin his life by taking Francis away from him. Eventually he fell into a troubled sleep. This was his first night away from Francis since they’d started sleeping together. He felt so lonely, just wanting to be with him, but he was just so upset.  
Arthur lay awake staring at the ceiling in the outhouse, thinking about Francis and the whole situation. He couldn’t just leave him here, out of his own time, he didn’t belong here. He needed to be with him. How dare Hindley even think about challenging him to a duel? Well tomorrow one of them would die… Arthur knew fine well it could be himself.  
The next day at dawn, Mr Townsend, Hindley, Arthur and Francis met at the front of the mansion and made their way towards the bridge. Townsend held a black case within which the weapons were stored. Hindley looked at Francis’ who couldn’t look back at him. If he had, then he would have seen his eyes were red, and he was not his usual self at all. Arthur never said a word either, he just turned up ready for what might happen. Even death. When they got to the middle of the bridge, Mr Townsend held the case open. Inside were two flintlock pistols set in a felt casing. They had never been fired.  
“Gentlemen choose your weapons.” He uttered. They did so, Hindley choosing his first and loading two bullets into it, as did Arthur. They stood back to back, looking at the ground, and it was at that point Francis noticed that Hindley looked terrible, he looked distressed. He glanced up at the Frenchman who was glancing back at him wondering if he’d been crying too. He blinked a little and looked like he was regretting ever making this challenge.  
“Sirs if you would…” Mr Townsend continued. “When I blow this whistle, take ten paces forward, turn and fire. Are we clear?”  
“Clear Mr Townsend.” Hindley replied. “Ahem.”  
“Clear.” Arthur replied.  
A moment later Mr Townsend blew the whistle and started counting from one to ten. The two men took their paces forward, “One… two… three….four….”  
However when they reached number eight, Hindley stopped and looked round at Arthur, he didn’t aim his weapon, he just watched him. “eight…nine…” He slowly raised his weapon. “…ten…” In the few moments it took for Arthur to turn around, Hindley knew he couldn’t shoot him. He looked at Arthur and instead of seeing an enemy, it was like he was looking at his own son. He heard his lover's words in his head from the night before “You wouldn’t shoot your own son…” The Frenchman was right, there was absolutely no way he could do it. He looked to him and mouthed “I can’t…”  
Francis drew a sharp intake of breath, but there was nothing he could do to stop what would happen next.  
Thinking that Hindley was a crack shot and would fire on him immediately, Arthur turned around and fired, not realising that Hindley wasn’t going to fire at all. The bullet lodged itself in Hindley’s shoulder, then Arthur fired again, and that bullet hit his hand knocking the gun to the ground, as he fell to his knees, as Francis cried out to him and ran to his aid. “Hindley!” he screamed emotionally, holding him by the shoulders. “What happened?”  
“You’re right, I … I couldn’t shoot him.” He replied, clutching at his arm. “I couldn’t do it.” He uttered. “He’s my Great Grandson…”  
“Oh… Hindley…” Francis uttered through tears and hugged him. He knew that Hindley wasn’t a bad man, that he’d never be able to do it. “Je t’aime…” Francis whispered.  
“You must go with him.” Hindley said quietly. “You must go now, and not look back. Alright?”  
Arthur approached cautiously. This was meant to be a duel to the death and he hadn’t killed him obviously, but he was prepared to fight.  
“Arthur…” Hindley uttered through the pain. “Give him a good life… don’t you ever hurt him. He’s the most delicate creature in the world… he needs love.”  
“I can promise you that Sir.” He said quietly, as he realised there would be no fight to the death. He took Francis by the arm, picking him up from the ground where he was kneeling with him.  
“No… no… Hindley…” he sobbed, as he was practically dragged away. Hindley knelt there nursing his injured arm. The bones on his hand were shattered, and his shoulder was bleeding badly. He didn’t look up as he heard Arthur firing up his machine.  
“Come on we have to go.”  
Arthur held on to Francis and the machine did what it was supposed to do, transporting them back to 1946.


	11. Forever Autumn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok so anyone who knows me as a writer, in my stories everyone usually dies, EXCEPT IN THIS ONE. Happy or sad ending, you decide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want feels etc I recommend Forever Autumn by Justin Hayward.

"Francis you need to get over what has happened." Arthur said in a frustrated tone, as he tried to kiss him but was yet again pushed away. "You haven't let me come near you in days…" He sighed, upset and disappointed with him. Every time he'd tried to touch him or kiss him, Francis would turn away, or refuse him. He'd hardly spoken at all since they returned from 1827 and it was hurting Arthur a lot. "I go all the way to the past to rescue you and this is how you treat me?"

"I am sorry." Francis said quietly as he got out of bed. Lying next to Arthur was just not the same as it was with Hindley, and he couldn't reconcile that now he was living in his own time and things were different. The mansion was dismal and falling apart, the little summerhouse where he and Hindley had shared romantic moments was nothing more than a wreck and Arthur was still obsessed with his machine, even though he had promised to destroy it. He missed young Arthur, as he was starting to feel like family to him. Right now, he didn't feel loved, or sexy, and above all he missed Hindley, that sweet gentle man with a tender touch that would send shivers down his spine. Francis would often sit and go back in his memory to the last time he saw him, on his knees, defeated, telling him to go back with Arthur, and he knew it wasn't because Hindley wanted him to leave, it was because he wanted the best for him.

"Why won't you let me even touch you?" Arthur asked, still frustrated. "We used to have so much… and now…"

Francis turned to him, emotionless and cold, the light that once shone in his eyes completely gone. "I can't." He uttered sadly. "I don't feel the same." He said. "I used to watch you tinker with your machine and I felt love for you and now, I feel nothing." He continued "I'd happily go along with all your ideas no matter how nonsensical they were but… now they fade into insignificance…"

"Francis…" Arthur uttered, his face dropped, and he looked so upset. "How can you say those things… I… I love you… don't you understand?"

"Oui I do." He replied. "But ever since I came back, the world is grey, and I cannot bring back my feelings…" He sighed and left the room.

Arthur got up and set about his work as usual, and they tried to ignore the fact that things had changed but it became more and more obvious that Francis' heart wasn't in it anymore. He still didn't want to give up on him though, hoping that one day he would get over the past and start to open up and love him again.

One morning Francis got up early and packed a bag, without telling Arthur what he was going to do. He retrieved the old photograph of himself and Hindley from the photograph album and went downstairs to the machine. He had made a decision and he knew it was the right thing to do. Finally, he picked up a pen and started to write a letter to Arthur.

"Dear Arthur

I know this is going to hurt you, and it took me a long time to decide what to do. Although I tried so hard to return to this life, for me it is impossible. I can't love you when my heart is still with Hindley. You never gave me a choice either of you, fighting over me like I was some object, and then you forcibly brought me back here, without asking me how I felt. When you dragged me away from his arms I felt as though my world had ended, and to bring me back here, where there are only memories, is just too much. There was a time when I loved you more than life itself, but when I thought I would never see you again, Hindley helped me deal with it, and then he became my world. I'm sorry Arthur, but when you try to put your arms around me, it is Hindley I want, and when you try to kiss me, my mind is filled with memories of his kisses… and I want to be with him. Don't follow me this time, don't come after me. I won't come back.

Yours

Francis. Au Revoir.. x

As the sun was just coming up over the horizon, Francis started up the machine, and it sprung to life with its usual strange sounds and odd music. Then he went into the chamber, this time clutching his bag of possessions and clothes and holding on to that photograph of himself with Hindley. "Take me back." He whispered as the swirling mass appeared behind him.

Arthur heard the machine fire up, and sat up in bed, alarmed and fearful. "Francis!" He cried as he jumped out of bed and ran to the basement, his heart beating ten to the dozen. By the time he got there it was too late. The machine was in full swing and emitting its blue flashes of light as Francis disappeared.

"No…" gasped Arthur in shock. The pain in his heart was indescribable, and he couldn't believe Francis had just done this. His attention was drawn to the letter with his name on it that was left for him on the table. As he read it he sank to the floor, heartbroken and devastated. Francis didn't love him, he loved Hindley.

In 1827 it was night time, 8pm in the evening of a Tuesday in mid autumn, as Hindley unsuccessfully tried to play his guitar in the summerhouse to try and quiet his tortured mind. The place was lit up by a few candles casting a gentle glow on the pillars and the climbing ivy, the leaves of which were turning red. Outside the trees were shedding their leaves and it was growing colder. He hadn't been able to play the guitar since the bones of his left hand were shattered during the duel, but he did try. He got a few notes and maybe a tune, but nowhere near the beautiful music he used to play. It was no use anyway because, nothing would bring back Francis, and he knew it. He'd never been able to get over his wife's death before but this, somehow it was far worse. If he could just play the guitar again, that would help, but it was damn near impossible with his bandaged fingers. He couldn't tell anyone how he was feeling, nobody would have understood, and how could he say to anyone he'd fallen in love with a man? No, this was his secret heartache, one he had to keep to himself.

Francis found himself at the entrace of the summerhouse where he stood for a few moments, listening to Hindley try to play, even with his injured hand. He couldn't do it, though he managed to get a little tune out of it. He knew that playing the guitar was what Hindley was best at, and not being able to play must have been devastating for him. Slowly he moved himself behind Hindley who was unaware of his presence, and gently wrapped his arms around his waist, then kissed his neck. Hindley didn't know what was happening, till he turned around and saw Francis there, and he just couldn't comprehend the moment. He gasped in surprise, in shock, and his heart leapt.

There was a long pause in the silence of the summerhouse, only the sound of the water in the pond outside could be heard, the soft sound of the wind and an owl hooting in the distance. "F…Francis…?" Hindley whispered "You came back?"

"I had to mon amour." Francis said, as the light of the candles reflected in his deep blue eyes, revealing his emotions. "Je t'aime… I love you."

Arthur Hindley Kirkland was a gentleman, and had been brought up to believe certain things, and that crying in front of anyone was to be avoided at all costs, it was not a gentlemanly thing to do. He'd never in all his years shed a tear in front of anyone, only ever in private. He was very surprised to hear Francis' words as they stood there embracing one another.

"Oh Hindley…" Francis whispered tenderly "You're crying…" He said as he slipped his finger under Hindley's fringe and lifted it up a little, then cupped his face in his hand gazing at the beautiful tears whispering down his cheeks.

Somehow he had let those tears escape from his eyes, without even realising that's what was happening. He wasn't upset, just overcome with emotion that Francis had come back to him.

"Oh…" He uttered, and sobbed a little. Francis brushed his tears away with his thumb. "I am…aren't I?" Hindley mumbled. "Sorry… I…" he said as he leaned in and found himself weeping on Francis' shoulder.

"Don't be sorry…" Francis replied softly. He'd seen Hindley upset before, that first day he met him, from a distance, yes, and the day he left him, but this was the first and only time he'd seen him cry. He reached up and stroked his hair and kissed his head. "You need this mon amour."

"Are you home for good?" He asked quietly. "Please stay…"

"I am mon amour." Francis replied. "I missed all this… I missed young Arthur… and I missed you."

"What about your Arthur… from your time?" Hindley asked, genuinely concerned.

"I'm sure that one day he'll find someone to bear a child for him. But that someone is not me." Francis sighed. "I had to leave him."

A gentle smile graced Hindley's face as they stood there. He couldn't remember ever feeling so happy to be with someone in his entire life.

"Je t'aime…" Francis repeated.

"I love you too." Hindley sighed as they melted into a deep kiss in that little summerhouse, wrapped in one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this story, and please leave reveiws as I love them. Did you like the character of Hindley? Was it the ending you wanted? What did you think?


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